


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Chap. Copyright No. 

— +??£ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









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THE MARCH TO THE SEA 



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Srf H.P W BYERS 



"A campaign the like of which has not been read of in 
■past history."— U. S. Grant 




SEP 24. 



BOSTON 
ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
Copley Square 
1896 



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Copyrighted, 1896, 
By S. H. M. BYERS 



All Rights Reserved. 



ArenaPrbss. 



TO THEM 

WHO MARCHED WITH SHERMAN 
TO THE SEA. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



INTERLUDES. 



PART I. 

PAGE 

Prelude 9 

Soldiers' Song 21 

Doris 29 

Foragers' Song 34 

With Corse at Allatoona 42 

The Ballad of John Brown 46 

Last Night I heard the Whippoorwill 56 

PART II. 

Reveille 59 

PART III. 

Ballad 71 

At the River 77 

Midnight in Camp 85 

The Raid of the Andrews Men 88 

War Violets 103 

Almost Up 107 

Ponce de Leon 109 

Kilpatrick's Cavalry Charge 118 

Song of Sherman's March to the Sea 133 

Adieu , 142 



TEE IAECH TO THE SEA. 



PAET L 



PRELUDE. 

1. 

O READER, listen, if it is thy will 
To know of things that half forgot- 
ten are — 
Heroic deeds that may thy bosom thrill, 
And hear a tale of heroes in the war. 

2. 

Think that you hear a bugle sounding yet, 
And see a camp within a forest fair, 

White rows of tents amidst the green aisles 
set, 
And silent sentries slowly walking there. 



10 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

3. 

See once again the bivouacs in the wood, 
And soldiers sleeping where the shadows 
fall, 
The oaks and pines, that centuries have 
stood, 
And glorious moonlight shining over all. 

4. 
And smouldering fires whose ashes have 
grown cold, 
And stacks of muskets standing there in 
line, 
And banners drooping, with their stars of 
gold, 
Beneath the moonlight and the silent pine. 

5. 
For things like these a thousand times were 
seen, 
Blue coat, or gray, their camps were still 
the same, 
And oft a river only rolled between, 

That saw them f oemen when the morning 
came. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. H 

6. 

Then gleamed their blades, and shone their 
fronts of steel, 
The fearful sounds the leaders' voices 
drown ; 
The guns flash out, the black-mouthed can- 
nons peal, 
As if the forests all were crashing down. 

7. 

And brave they fought, whichever side they 
stood, 
And met death there, not trembling nor 
with fear, 
For blue or gray, now struggling in that wood, 
Each struck for something that his heart 
held dear. 

8. 

And when again the night around them fell, 

And in their camps all peacefully they lay, 

The glorious moon, with its enchanting spell, 

Still shone alike on blue coat and on gray. 



12 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

THE SILENT CITY. 
ATLANTA. 



IT WAS a time not very far away, 
For men still live who knew that city 
well, 
And though their beards be turning into 
g^y, 
Their eyes rekindle when again they tell 
How on a time they saw a city, fair, 
Where no one lived, yet armies marshalled 
there. 

ii. 
Grass grew at will in every empty street, 
And roses bloomed on every garden wall, 
And sweetbriar climbed with dear and 
noiseless feet ; 
One almost thought to hear the blossoms 
fall, 
Or the bright moonlight, as it shone apace, 
It was so silent in that wondrous place. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 13 

III. 

Closed every door and every latticed shade, 
Where once fair maids on lovers had looked 
down, 

In the dear days ere hope began to fade, — 
In the dear days ere all had silent grown ; 

Ere cruel war upon the city burst, 

To leave its children wanderers and accurst ! 

IV. 

The old town clock there in its steeple 
high, 
Still tolled the hours upon the starlit air, 
And faint one heard the hungry watch- 
dog's cry 
Chained to his post, — he was forgotten there ; 
And days had gone, and nights in silence 

passed, 
Since all the people from the town were 
cast.* 

v. 
Calm sat the city in its solitude, 
No sound of wheels or footsteps now was 
heard, 

* Note 1. 



14 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

In the white moonlight tower and steeple 

stood, 
The summer wind the rose-leaves scarcely 

stirred ; 
Only the notes of some far bugle's call 
Disturbed the silence that was over all. 

VI. 

Long summer days the hostile armies 
strove 
For mast'ry of this city, now so bare, 

And many a field and many a far-off grove 
Told of the death that soldiers met with there ; 

A hundred days of conflict and of blood, 

A hundred days, so long the city stood ; 

VII. 

Till, on a time when thousands had been 
slain, 
And graves were thick in every wood and 
dell, 
And death reaped men as harvesters their 
grain, 
The day was lost, and then the city fell : 
The city fell — and through its every gate 
The people went, and left it desolate. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 15 

VIII. 

And they who conquered camped about 
its walls, 
And left it standing empty and alone — 

Its silent streets and its deserted halls, 
Its roses blooming, but its people gone. 

One had not known, it was so still and fair. 

That war and death had ever entered there. 

IX. 

Then came a calm, and while the victors 
lay 
In their white tents, amidst the forest green, 
They told the tales of their long, danger- 
ous way, 
Of many a march, the battles they had seen, 
Before they reached this city of delight, 
For so it seemed in the soft summer night. 



One told how once on Lookout's height 
they fought, 
Wrapped in the clouds, and hid from all be- 
low ; 



16 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

How every step with danger had been 

fraught, 
Each cliff a fort, and every tree a foe ; 
How on they climbed, along the mountain 

dread, 
And no soul asked what still might be 

ahead. 

XI. 

Till at high noon an awful darkness fell 
Of mist, and fog, and smoke — a battle 
shroud — 
And who his nearest comrade none could 
tell, 
Nor see the flames of cannon in the cloud, — 
When, suddenly, a rift broke in the west ; 
They saw, and cheered, and charged the 
mountain's crest. 

XII. 

Another told of Missionary Ridge, 
And Sherman's army by the Tennessee, 

That starless night, and never any bridge, 
The army floating there so noiselessly ; 

The muffled oar, the silence, and the tide, 

And death, grim, waiting on the other side. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 17 

XIII. 

The awful charge, the storming at the 
Left, 
The hundred guns that flamed across their 
path, 
The battle roaring in the mountain's cleft, 
The smoking rocks, the red-hot cannon's 
wrath, 
Till down the hill there came the exulting 

cry, 
" The Ridge is ours ; they fly, the f oemen 
fly!" 

XIV. 

And round the camp-fires there was talk 
of him 
Who led our Left to victory on that day, 
Who, spite of foes, and wounds, and valor 
grim, 
Still kept his heart like some sweet child's at 

Not war his choice, nor conflict's dreadful 

din, — 
His love for others took the whole world in. 

2 



18 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

XV. 

At every camp-fire he was called the Good, 
By every soldier he was called the Brave, 
The kind, true knight, whom every com- 
rade would 
Have followed, faithful even to the grave ; 
The glorious hero, warrior of the West, — 
Mighty his sword, but peace he loved the 
best. 

XVI. 

Of him they told how, with prophetic eye, 
From Lookout's heights he saw Atlanta rise, 

And knew that there his battle-path must 
lie, 
Or else in vain were all his victories. 

And farther, deeper still, his vision went, 

Of armies marching o'er a continent. 

XVII. 

The drums now beat ; " Lights out ! " 
the sergeants call ; 
Sounds the tattoo in all the forest round ; 
And soon 'tis silent in the bivouacs all, 
The camp-fires, dying, smoulder to the 
ground. 




LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN.' 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 19 

Above the camp the stars their silence 

keep, 
And in the moonlight all the soldiers sleep. 

XVIII. 

The soldiers sleep, and in their visions feel 
Once more the thrill of that first battle day, 
When down the lines they saw the flashing 
steel, 
And heard the guns, and saw the men in 
gray; 
The smoke, the heat, the furious battle-cry, 
The squadrons charging where the wound- 
ed lie. 

XIX. 

Again in sleep Resaca's hills they see, 
And Kenesaw, with all its heaps of slain, 

The batteries, hid by many a rock and 
tree, 
In their fierce dreams they see them all 
again ; 

And Dallas Woods, where quick a thou- 
sand fell, 

And that dread field men called "The 
Hole of Hell." 



20 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

XX. 

Still in their dreams Atlanta's cannon roar, 

Round that fierce scene where brave Mc- 

Pherson fell, 

And Peach-tree creek, and Ezra church ; 

once more 

The siege, the charge ; they hear the awful 

yell, 

Till, waking, lo ! it is the dawn they see — 
Their dream of war the morning's reveille.* 

XXI. 

Then through the camps a rider hurries by, 
" Great news — great news ! " to all the lis- 
t'ning host, 
Of some great thing they are about to try, 
Some wondrous march, — Atlanta to the 
coast ; 
And round about the very forest ring, 
The bugles echo, and the soldiers sing. 



* In the armies, North and South, this word was pro- 
nounced as if written rev"-a-lee'. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 21 



SOLDIERS' SONG. 

" TT^ALL in, fall in, good news has come/' 
-A. The joyous soldiers sing ; 

And down the lines and up the lines 
The glorious tidings ring. 

" Sherman, hurrah ! we'll go with him 
Wherever it may be, 

Through Carolina's cotton fields, 
Or Georgia to the Sea. 

"Let every blue-coat soldier-boy 
Put on his knapsack well, 

There'll be no knowing where we'll go, 
Nor coming back to tell. 

Up boys, hurrah ! the order reads, 
' The troops shall forage free, 

And flanking parties will go out 
When marching to the Sea.' 

" What if some soldier boys should fall ? 
Well, there's no use to sigh, 

The grave at last will cover all, 
We have but once to die. 



22 THE MJLBCR TO THE SEA. 

Sherman, hurrah ! well go with him 
Wherever it may be, 

Through Carolina's cotton fields, 
Or Georgia to the Sea. 

" A thousand miles we've marched before, 
And battled half the way, 

What matters then how many more 
Be added on to-day ? 

Look boys, hurrah! 'tis Sherman comes 
Along the lines, and we 

Will cheer the General as we go 
Through Georgia to the Sea. 1 ' 



XXII. 

FINISHED the song, and every heart 
beats high, 
And horse and foot are gath'ring far and 
near; 
Polished each blade, and every gun they try, 
The army trains in long white lines appear, 
" March in light order," is the one com- 
mand, 
" The soldiers all will forage from the 
land/' 



THE MABCR TO THE SEA. 23 

XXIII. 

Burned every bridge between them and 
the North, 
Destroyed all roads, and fordless every 
stream ; 
Now many a one sends his last greetings 
forth, 
To some far home, now fading like a dream. 
Not in their arms alone they trust, but cast 
Themselves on God, who leadeth all at last. 

XXIV. 

Like sailors turning to an unknown sea 

Where no ship's keel has ever gone before, 

Not knowing where, if any land there be, 

Or what may greet them on that distant 

shore ; 

So seems it now, and only this they know — 

Their hearts are strong, and their great 

leader true. 

xxv. 
" Now cut the wires," the leader said, 
" but note 
One message first to him we leave behind."* 
* General Thomas. 



24 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And kneeling down upon the ground, he 
wrote, 
"We march at dawn, — the Sea we hope to 
find." 
He turned his face, and through war's 

vistas came 
A light of glory shining round his name. 
# # # * # 

XXVI. 

Far, far away, Atlanta's children weep, 
Yet see, nor dream, what fearful fate has 
done ; 

The weary wanderers of the city sleep, 
Nor hear their foes nor any signal gun, 

Nor any sound upon the midnight wind 

To tell of all that they have left behind. 

XXVII. 

Little they dream of how war's dreadful 

needs 

Have doomed their city to some sudden fall, 

Or how themselves have sown the awful 

seeds 

They soon shall reap in war's red carnival. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 25 

They sleep, they dream, they see their 

homes so fair, 
The quiet moonlight and the roses there. 

XXVIII. 

They dream of days when all was sweet 

and still, 
And blessed peace her dear wings cast 

around, 
When blossoms bloomed by every tarn 

and hill, 
And violets kissed the sweetly scented ground ; 
Of their own homes, ere the invader came, 
In sleep they smile, and call Atlanta's 

name. 

XXIX. 

But lo ! already smoking columns rise 
In conflagration o'er that fated town, 

Illumed the woods, and reddened half the 
skies ; 
In every street the storm comes sweeping 
down, 
And bursting bombs hurl their destruction 

dire, — 
Altanta's doom ; the city is on fire. 



26 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

XXX. 

Atlanta's doom ! A hundred years shall tell 
The tale anew of that terrific morn, 

How tower and dome and walls together 
fell, 
Or in fierce flames were to destruction borne ; 

How in one night all that had been so fair 

Perished and left but ruins standing there. 

XXXI. 

And round that place where that fair town 
had stood, 
Ten thousand graves told what the cost 
had been ; 

No fallow field, no hill, no pleasant wood, 
But there some mangled soldier's grave was 
seen. 

There blue and gray — their fearful con- 
flicts done — 

Together slept, nor asked which side had 
won. 

XXXII. 

Once more the sun illumes the horizon, 
Once more the bugles sound the call, "Fall 
in." 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 27 

On yonder heights they hear the signal 

gun, 
The hour has come ; the great march will 

begin. 
And from their camps the steady columns 

wind, 
In long blue lines, — Atlanta's left behind. # 

XXXIII. 

Their faces South along the unknown way, 
With measured tread the bronzed veterans go. 

No gorgeous pomp, no glorious array, 
But plain, strong men, and feared by every 
foe. 
Sublime they sing, and glorious anon, 
Of old John Brown, whose soul was 
marching on. 

xxxiv. 

For many miles the serried column spread, 
On many roads their daring horsemen flew, 
A sight it was, most beautiful, yet dread, 
War's wasting besom sweeping Georgia 
through, 

* Note 2. 



28 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Destroying all that in its pathway lay, 
And threatening towns a hundred miles 
away. 

XXXV. 

A thousand men the railroads overturn, 
The red-hot rails round neighboring trees 
are bent, 
All that a f oeman e'er may use they burn ; 
Flames marked each road where'er the army 
went. 
Thus through the land the tramping 

soldiers wind, 
Kich fields in front, a howling waste 
behind. 

xxxvi. 

Thus too each morrow with the risen sun 
They march again to bugle note and song, 

Or listen, thrilling, to some foeman's gun, 
Far forward where the vanguard troopers 
throng ; 
There at some ford hard held by men in 

gray, 
The daring troopers give their lives away. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 29 



DORIS. 

'T \ ^IS morn and the horsemen ride 

J- Far on at the army's van. 
And Doris is at my side, 

We are galloping man for man. 
" Doris, brother, slow — 

Halt/' is the cry ahead — 
" Look where the colonels go ! " 

Never a word he said. 

My Doris's horse is brown, 

And my good steed is gray, 
We've ridden them np and down 

On many a battle day. 
" Look, Doris, see ! 

Something is wrong, I know." 
Smiling he looked at me, 

Looked where the colonels go. 

The bridge is burned, and the ford 
Is filled with the men in gray, 

And under the trees a horde 
Of rebels that block our way. 



30 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

" Charge, cavalry, charge ! " 
See how the sabres gleam, 

Slowly out of the wood, 

Quickly down to the stream. 

And full in our faces flash, 

As into the creek we ride, 
The glare of the musket's crash, 

A gun from the other side. 
" Charge, cavalry, there ! 

Charge on that blazing gun ! " 
There's a shout on the morning air, 

The ford and the creek are won ! 

A shout on the morning air, 

Till the forests resound ag-ain ; 
We have taken the crossing fair, 

And lost but a dozen men. 
Doris ? comrades ? — God ! — 

Doris ? It cannot be — 
Yonder upon the sod, 

And never a word to me ! 

I buried him in the sand, 
And tarried behind a day, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 31 

Till the army should come to hand 
To the place where my Doris lay. 

" Cheer, soldiers, cheer," 

That's what the General said ; 

How little they seemed to care 
That Doris was lying dead ! 

My Doris's horse is brown, 

And my good steed is gray, 
But I shall take his instead of my own, 

And now I am on my way. 
" Charge, cavalry, charge ! " 

Little it is to me, 
Whether I live or whether I die, 

Or whether I reach the sea. 



XXXVII. 

LONG in the North the people sit and 
^ wait, 
In doubt and fear what yet the end may be, 

If time or tide, heroic deeds, or fate, 
Shall bring that army safely to the sea. 
" They all are lost," so rumor darkly said, 
"In the deep forest, and their leaders 
dead." 



32 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

XXXVIII. 

And here and there some soldiers had 

gone down, 
Captured or killed if straggling from the 

line. 
For fiercer now the hearts of men had 

grown, 
And war had scarcely any pitying sign ; 
Life is not much, that men to it should 

cling, 
And death to some seemed but a little 

thing. 

# # # # # 

XXXIX. 

Kich was that land in everything that 

grew 
On tree or vine, or nurtured in the ground ; 

Its kindly sun, its sky's ethereal blue, 
Its softening rains blessed all the fields 

around. 
From field and vine the frightened owners 

fled, 
From groaning barns with golden ears and 

red. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 33 

XL. 

But distant far the rich fields often were, 
And, that the army might not want for 
bread, 
Each twentieth man was made a forager, 
And so it was the marching host were fed. 
On left and right, wherever farms might 
be, 
They roved the lands as privateers the sea. 

XLI. 

Grotesque their garb as ever one could 
find, 
To camp they rode fantastically grand, 

In hats and coats the planters left behind, 
Mounted on steeds such as might come to 
hand ; 
Or else in some rich farmer's new coupe, 
Its silken cushions piled with hams and 
hay. 

XLII. 

And so they went, these foragers, and far, 
And each a law unto himself became, 

Audacious men as ever went to war, 
Or found in fight an easy road to fame. 
3 



34 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And many a time in their own reckless 

way, 
They met with death in some far-off 

foray. # 



Note 3. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 35 



FORAGER'S SONG. 
1. 

THE bugles I hear and the camp is astir, 
The sun rises clear on the pine and 
the fir ; 
Away let us ride, past the vanguard and 

camp, 
Ere the farmer shall hide all his corn in the 
swamp. 

2. 

Already the hills are in purple and gold, 
The dawn, how it thrills all the wood and 

the wold ! 
No flag and no drum — ah ! little they know 
How sudden we come, or the roads that we go. 

3. 
Let soldiers who will plod along on their way, 
But give us the spice of a far-off foray : 
A brush in some lane with their five to our 

one, 
And a barn full of grain when the scrim- 
mage is done. 



36 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

4. 

Then forward, hurrah ! there'll be fun on 
the farm, 

When the cocks and the dogs shall have 
raised the alarm ; 

When the darkies shall cry to each gay cava- 
lier, 

" We'sglad, Mr. Sherman, to see you is here." 

5. 

Then here's to the bummer who longest can 

ride, 

A sheep on his shoulder, his gun at his side ; 

And to every brave fellow who goes on before 

To forage good food for the grand army 

corps. 

6. 

Then up, while the hills are in purple and 

gold, 
While the dew's on the grass, and the sheep 

are in fold ; 
Let others who will watch along on their 

way, 
But give us the morn, and a far-off foray. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 37 

XLIII. 

SO day by day the army moved along, 
Flanked left and right by these bold 
foragers ; 
'Tis now a cheer, or now an army song, 
Or bugle's note the soldier's bosom stirs, 
And catching step to that wild music's 

strain, 
They bend their faces to the distant main. 

XLIV. 

Through field and wood the blue-coat 

soldiers stride, 
The battery wagons fill the road between, 

Far in advance the troopers gaily ride, 
The long white trains fill up the varied 

scene ; 
Like grown-up boys on some wild pleasure 

bent, 
With swinging step the fearless soldiers 

went. 

XLV. 

A sight it was ! that sea of army blue, 
The sloping guns of the swift tramping 
host, 



38 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Winding its way the fields and forests 

through, 
As winds some river slowly to the coast. 
The snow-white trains, the batteries grim, 

and then,* 
The steady tramp of sixty thousand men. 

XLVI. 

Yet they were far within a stranger's land, 

A f oeman brave was round them everywhere, 

And ambuscades and swamps on every 

hand, 

And bridgeless streams, and f oemen waiting 

there ; 

Still feared they not the dangers of the 

way, 
But trusted him who led them day by day. 

XLVII. 

And if, perchance, they saw him down 

the lines, 

To the blue skies there went the wild huzza, — 

Amazed the rocks and the tall, silent 

pines, 

That never heard such music till that day ; 

* Note 4. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 39 

And far away still other columns hear, 
And wave their flags and join the mighty 
cheer. 

XL VIII. 

By many a road the swinging lines went 

on, 
By many a farm, through many a hamlet 

rude, 
Where every soul save some poor slave 

was gone, 
The village green turned to a solitude : 
Or if some, fearless, kept the lonesome 

place, 
Scorn marked each brow, contempt looked 

from each face. 

XLIX. 

But once unto a city fair they neared, 
With shaded streets like to some wooded 
glen, 
And in its midst a great white house ap- 
peared, 
Within whose walls sat solemn whiskered 
men, 



40 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Who great laws made, and proclamations 

gave, 
And ever cried, "Be brave, be brave, be 

brave." 

L. 

Fearless they seemed as solemnly they 
sate, 
Like men who dared at duty's post to die, 

But lo ! one shot outside the city's gate, 
They took their hats and were the first to 

%; 

On horse, on foot, chief magistrate and all, 
Disgraceful fled, and left an empty hall. 

LI. 

And in their stead some blue-coats sat 

them down, 

And merry made of all things grave or gay, 

And laws they passed declaring that that 

town 

Should, nolens volens, with the Union stay. 

And many days within that town, 'twas 

said, 
Men laughed at how their Legislature fled. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 41 

LII. 

And round the camp-fires many an even- 
ing* 
The soldiers too talked of those solemn men, 
Or else told tales, or one a song would sing, 
When all would join him in the glad re- 
frain. 
And so it was that every camp-fire had 
Its tale to tell, its song to make them glad. 

LIU. 

And once, as closer round a fire they drew, 
A poet comrade gave his fancy flight ; 

Stories he told of lovers, false and true, 
And tales of war — then would have said 
" Good-night." 
" Not yet," they cry ; " enough of love 

and sport ; 
" Still tell of Corse, and how he held the 
fort." 



42 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



WITH CORSE AT ALLATOONA.* 

IT was less than two thousand we num- 
bered, 
In the fort sitting up on the hill; 
That night not a soldier that slumbered ; 

We watched by the starlight until 
Daybreak showed us all of their forces ; 

About us their gray columns ran, 
To left and to right they were round us, 
Five thousand if there was a man. 



" Surrender your fort," bawled the rebel ; 

" Five minutes I give, or you're dead." 
" Not a man," answered Corse, in his treble, 

" Perhaps you can take us instead ! " 
Then pealed forth their cannon infernal ; 

We fought them outside of the pass, 
Two hours, the time seemed eternal ; 

The dead lay in lines on the grass. 

* Note 5. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 43 

But who cared for dead or for dying ? 

The fort we were there to defend, 
And across from yon far mountain flying, 

Came a message, " Hold on to the end ; 
Hold on to the fort." It was Sherman, 

Who signalled from Kenesaw's height, 
Far over the heads of our foemen, 

u Hold on — I am coming to-night.' ' 

Quick fluttered our flag to the signal, 

We answered him back with a will, 
And fired on the gray-coated rebels 

That charged up the slope of the hill. 
" Load double," cried Corse, " every cannon ; 

Who cares for their ten to our one?" 
We looked at the swift-coming rebels, 

And answered their yell with a gun. 

With the grape from our fort in their faces, 

They rush to the ramparts, but stop ; 
Ah ! few of the gray-columned army 

That day left alive at the top. 
On the parapets, too, lie our wounded, 

Each porthole a grave for the dead ; 
No room for our cannon, the corpses 

Fill up the embrasures instead. 



44 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Again through the cannon's red weather 

They charge up the hill and the pass, 
Their dead and our dead lie together 

Out there on the slope in the grass. 
A crash from our rifles — they falter; 

A gleam from our steel — it is by. 
" Recall, and retreat," sound their bugles ; 

We cheer from the fort as they fly. 

Once more and the signal is flying — 

" How many the wounded and dead ? " 
" Six hundred," says Corse, " with the 
dying," 

The blood streaming down from his head. 
" But what of that ? Look ! the old banner 

Shines out there as peaceful and still 
As if there had not been a battle 

This morning up here on the hill." 



LIV. 

" npELL on, tell on," the eager listeners 
J- cried, 
As each new tale of love or war was done, 
And half they cheered at Sheridan's great 
ride, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 45 

And laughed or wept as each new yarn was 

spun ; 
Then all at once they wrangled,near and far, 
As to what thing had brought about the 

war. 

LV. 

One said the politicians ; others said 
'Twas cotton, else the niggers did it all ; 

Or abolitionists; had they been dead 
There never had been any war at all. 

Then one spake up, who by the fire had 
lain, 

" This is God's war, to me 'tis very plain. 

LVI. 

" You all have heard, but listen, hear once 

more, 

Of that old Shepherd of New England's sod, 

Whose hero-blood lies at the Nation's door 

Because he feared the everlasting God. 

Curst was the land for that black deed, 

abhorred, 
For they had slain an angel of the Lord." 



46 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



THE BALLAD OF JOHN BROWN. 

BY old North Elba's hill-girt town 
A shepherd, dressed in homely brown, 
Beside his flocks one morning stood 
Amidst the rough field's solitude, 
And wanting aught of else to do, 
His Bible from his pocket drew, 
And read some pages, till he saw 
How straight and simple is the law. 

" Do unto others as you would 

That they should do to you." He stood 

A little while when he had read, 

Then closed the book, and prayed, and said, 

" I have not done this thing at all." 

He glanced beyond the pasture wall, 

And saw two bondsmen hurrying by, 

Who had escaped from slavery. 

Far from the South they fled one day, 

And good men helped them on their way. 

And now the shepherd thought of this, 

How far and long he'd been amiss, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 47 

How in the land he called his own 
A monstrous evil had upgrown 
Till millions of his kinsmen stood, 
Bound hand and soul in servitude, 
And he had lifted heart nor hand 
To cleanse the foul blot from the land. 

He knelt and made to God a vow, 

That if some day, or if somehow, 

The shepherd of North Elba could 

Become God's instrument for good, 

To drive the curse from out the land, 

He would give all his years, and stand 

First in the ranks of those who make 

Their bed with death for Freedom's sake. 

That moment round about him shone 

A light unearthly and unknown, 

But fair, supernal, as some star, 

That shines where only angels are. 

And then a low voice seemed to say, 

" Thou art my servant from this day." 



Years passed, and he who heard the Lord 
Became an angel of the sword. 



48 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Wherever wrong, oppression, dwelt, 
There his right hand was quickly felt. 
Stern, as became his pride and name, 
That hither with the Mayflower came, 
Yet little children loved to stand 
Beside his knee or press his hand ; 
But hated, wronged, despised was he, 
As was that One of Galilee, 
And no man dared to give him bread, 
Lest vengeance fall upon his head. 

Only a prophet here and there 

With soul to soar, and hand to dare, 

Saw in the old man's shining sword, 

The secret purpose of the Lord. 

Like some strong knight of olden time 

Whom bards have sung in many a rhyme, 

Alone he fought against the wrong, 

Nor asked which side was the more strong, 

For well he knew one in the right 

Could chase a thousand in the fight. 

Years passed, but never once forgot 

The bondsman's tears, the bondsman's lot, 

Nor that fair morning in the field 






THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 49 

Where his great vow to God was sealed. 

And many a sad slave's eyes grew dim, 

At thought of freedom and of him. 

And many a bondsman's feet were led 

To lands where slavery never spread. 

Yet, wronged himself, despised and poor, 

He trod the wine-press o'er and o'er : 

Though full of bitterness the cup, 

To the last dregs he drank it up. 

Burned were his barns, his corn, his wheat, 

His murdered sons lay at his feet ; 

To misery his life seemed wed, 

A price was placed upon his head ; 

Yet yielded not his heart of steel, 

Nor questioned he of woe or weal. 

" Who perils naught in God's great strife 

He is not worthy of his life. 

To live with wrong were mortal crime ; 

Who fears is born out of his time. 

So one more blow the curse I'll give ; 

What if I die or if I live ? 

Years are not of our life the sum, 

Nor dies one till his time is come. 

Nor matters it, so if at last 

The curse of bondage shall be passed." 

4 



50 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

He struck. 'Twas proud Virginia felt 
The blow the shepherd's strong arm dealt. 
Where the Potomac winds its way 
From the blue mountains to the bay, 
A little village smiling waits 
The stranger at its outer gates ; 
Immortal grown since that first blow 
That laid at last the monster low. 
One autumn Sabbath in the night 
He set the whole town in a fright ; 
With but a handful of brave men 
He scared the lion to his den ; 
But ere the noontide of that day, 
Dead half his comrades round him lay, 
And ere night's shadows had grown dim, 
A thousand soldiers marched on him. 
But spite of numbers, wounds, and blood, 
Like some chased tiger there he stood, 
And fired his rifle till, the last 
Poor chance of hope or rescue past, 
He fell amidst his children dead, 
Hurling his curse on slavery's head. 
And no fierce foeman where he fought, 
And no cold court where he was brought, 
No frowning judge, nor lawyer's scorn, 



THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 51 

Nor pain of body, bleeding, torn, 

Could make him one small moment yield, 

Whose life to freedom had been sealed. 



Writhing upon his cot of hay, 
Unconquered the old hero lay, 
Though pitiless around him stood 
His captors thirsting for his blood. 
Unmoved he heard the judge's cry, 
" Away with him, and let him die." 
Unmoved and tearless saw them come 
To lead him to his fearful doom ; 
The scaffold saw, but not afraid, 
He walked as if an angel stayed 
Close by his side and bade him hear, 
Above the rabble's shout and jeer, 
Beyond the scaffold, dark and grim, 
The far-off bells that tolled for him ; 
Adown the drifting years to look, 
And see all chains, all shackles broke ; 
And farther, through the drifting cloud, 
Beyond the coffin and the shroud, 
With his glad eyes the gates behold, 
The Master's face, the crown of gold, 



52 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And in the pearls encircling it 
These words, for his own glory writ : 
" As unto them ye did, so ye 
Have likewise done it unto Me." 



LVII. 

" npHAT is my story," said the soldier, 
J- " and 
That's why I think the conflict is of God. 

They did not see the everlasting Hand, 
They heeded not, so passed beneath the rod. 
They mocked His face, nor saw the holy 

light, 
And that is why we all are here to-night." 



LVIII. 

A white-haired slave who to the camp had 

come, 

Sat near the fire and heard the story through ; 

Silent he sat like one who might be dumb, 

But while they talked his eyes still larger 

grew, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 53 

For now, confirmed, as if by holy Word, 
The things of which he had but dimly 
heard. 

LIX. 

And when the moon her glory had put 
on, 

And silvered o'er the bivouac and the pines, 
With step as light as some poor frightened 
fawn 
He crept away beyond the Union lines. 
From farm to farm his hurrying footsteps 

flew 
To tell the slaves the mighty things he 
knew. 

LX. 

How down the roads a glorious army went, 
" A million men, each with a shining sword, 
Their camp-fires lighting all the firmament 
As might have shone the camp-fires of the 
Lord." 
How in the woods he heard their trum- 
pets blow, 
"Like to the horns that threw down 
Jericho." 



54 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

LXI. 

Down sank the moon and still he hurried 

by, 

Forever shouting, " Lo ! the Jubilee." 

The foeman heard the weird and far-off 

cry, 

And wondered much what this strange voice 
could be. 

The bondsmen too, they hear and under- 
stand, 

As if it were an angel in the land. 

LXII. 

No sleep that night for twenty miles 
around, 
From cabin homes to cabin homes they flee, 
And far away the glorious tidings sound 
As spread the waves of some disturbed sea, 
And chanting songs fill all the midnight air, 
And sobs and sighs and thankfulness and 
prayer. 

LXIII. 

And old men heard who had not hoped to 
live 
To hail in tears the coming of this day, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 55 

Though here and there some flying slave 
would give 
A tale of that great army on its way ; 

Or tell of him whose death, the bonds- 
men's loss, 

" Had made the scaffold glorious like the 
cross." 

LXIV. 

Up to the house, the white house on the 
lawn, 
From their rude cabins all the bondsmen 
hie ; 
Gone is the mistress, and the master, gone ; 
And tasks and whips, and gone is slavery ; 
And ere the dawn illumines field and dell, 
The slaves will sing their long and last 
farewell. 



56 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



LAST NIGHT I HEARD THE WHIP- 
POORWILL. 

LAST night I heard the whippoorwill, 
i Good-bye ; 

I think I hear his sweet voice still, 

Good-bye, plantation. 
An angel brought some good news round, 

Good-bye ; 
Oh, don't you hear the joyful sound ? 
Good-bye, plantation. 

Oh ! if you never prayed before, 

Good-bye ; 
Just now you's bound to pray the more, 

Good-bye, plantation. 
I think I hear the angels sing, 

Good-bye ; 
Oh, don't you hear the angel's wing, 

Good-bye, plantation. 

Oh, make your garments clean and white, 
Good-bye ; 






THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 57 

Great news has come to you this night, 

Good-bye, plantation. 
Oh, Massa Linkum, make us free, 

Good-bye ; 
Oh, let us hail the jubilee, 

Good-bye, plantation. 



LXV. 

STILL in that forest round their bivouac 
fires, 
The soldiers gossip far into the night ; 

Some of adventure ; some, their heart's 
desires ; 
To f ar-off homes some send their fancy's flight; 
Some, of their leaders talk; but most 

they bend 
Their thoughts on Lincoln — him, the peo- 
ple's friend. 

LXVI. 

They see him toiling in the wilderness, 
In simple garb, with hardened hands, but sure. 

Hard school of toil, but blessed none the 
less, 
Where he may learn the lessons of the poor ! 



58 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Well Nature knew the soul she had to teach, 
And gave it wings immortal heights to 
reach. 

LXVII. 

They see him stand in joy or toil the same, 

And fearing not life's battles or its scars ; 

The ladder see by which he climbed to 

fame, — 

To them it seemed to lean against the stars, — 

And on its rounds, writ in his deathless 

hand, 
" There shall no more be bondage in this 
land' 9 




THE TRUMPETER.' 



PART II. 



'^T^IS morn ; the bugles in the camp 

J- Sound loud the reveille, 
And far their notes through wood and swamp 
Re-echo merrily. 

2. 

And from their leafy beds the men 

Rise up like wakened deer, 
And round the bivouac fires again 

Make good their morning cheer. 

3. 

Once more the clarion note is heard : 
" Fall in ! " goes down the line, 

The camp is left to wind and bird, 
And to the murmuring pine. 



60 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

LXVIII. 

AGAIN the fir trees that an hour ago, 
- Stood like lone ghosts above the 
bivouac fires, 
Illumined now with the sun's rising glow, 
Lift up their heads like tall cathedral spires ; 
And far along, in many a blue-coat line, 
The columns tramp, the sloping rifles shine. 

LXIX. 

At times through some grand forest they 

would pass, 
Whose lofty aisles were marvels to behold, 
Whose floors of moss and of bright yellow 

grass, 
Like fairyland, new wonders did unfold ; 
And there abreast the marching columns 

come 
With flying flags, and bugle-notes, and 

drum. 

LXX. 

And then one sings, " My Country, 'tis of 
thee ; " 
A thousand voices join the glad refrain ; 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 61 

Fit forest song, fit hymn to liberty ! 
The woods resound, they are the soldier's 

fane ; 
Forgot is war, 'tis Freedom's song they 

sing; 
The bugles sound and all the dim aisles 

ring. 

LXXI. 

So marched they on, and here and there 
there came 
Great groups of slaves, of young folks and of 
old, 
Children and wives, the poor, the halt, the 
lame, 
To see the sights of which they had been told. 
Still spread the tale with wondering accord 
Of old John Brown, " The servant of the 
Lord." 

LXXII. 

And dusky bondsmen at the roadside knelt 
And gave God thanks that they had seen 
this day. 
No heart not flint but at that scene had 
felt 
Pity and shame for all that sad array : 



62 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Pity, that help had come so late to hand, 
And shame, that slavery e'er had cursed 
the land. 

LXXIII. 

And now again their hallelujahs rise, 
Like to that chant of Miriam by the sea ; 

The Lord has heard the lowly and his cries, 
His armies come to set the bondsmen free ; 

And every soldier in that mighty line 

Seems in their eyes a being half divine. 

LXXIV. 

It was a scene such as the world looks on 
But here and there in the dim centuries — 
The armed host, that tramped its way at 

dawn, 
The lines of bondsmen weeping on their 

knees, 
And praying but to touch the garment's 

hem 
Of men who brought such glorious news 

to them.* 

LXXV. 

Nights passed, and days, and every road- 
side had 

* Note 6. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 63 

Its groups of slaves now bound for liberty ; 

Nor any faces were there wholly sad, 
So glad were they at thoughts of being free ; 

Poor simple souls, their cup with joy was 
lined 

At leaving all they ever knew behind. 

LXXVI. 

At times the scene was picturesque and 

fair, 
The ebon faces shining in their joy, 

The half-clad forms of men and women 

there, 
The half-brown maids, with faces soft and 

coy, 
And wistful children, naked and forlorn, 
Too young to know they were in bondage 

born. 

LXXVII. 

And old, old men with faces like the night, 

And locks like snow, that hemmed their 

dark eyes in ; 

With teeth like ivory, so smooth and white, 

And beards like flakes fresh from the cotton 

gin. 



64 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

None knew their age, nor counted they 

their years, 
Nor scars, nor blows, their sorrows nor 

their tears. 

LXXVIII. 

Ked-turbaned matrons ling'ring round the 
scene, 
Their gay bandanas over breast and head ; 
The yellow grass, no longer fresh and 
green, 
The autumn leaves now turning gold and 
red. 
December days already were at hand, 
The Indian-summer of the Southern land. 

LXXIX. 

Now many a night, around the soldiers' 
fires, 
In the dim light was seen the bondsman's 
face, 
Women and maids, young men and gray- 
haired sires, 
While tales they told of their down-trodden 
race ; 



RE MARCH TO TEE SEA. 65 

And songs they sung, for music still was 

his ; 
Wrongs had not robbed the poor slaves' 

power of this. 

LXXX. 

In his worst hours, in all his years of 

wrong, 

Rude song had been his only hope and stay ; 

Nor day so dark but that some simple 

song 

Could make it light, and drive his tears away. 

Simple of heart as was his music's strain, 

The gentlest race that ever wore a chain. 

LXXXI. 

And dance he could, in his fantastic way, 
And patted Juba round the fires at night — 
Hoe-downs, and jigs, and many a caper- 
ing play; 
The soldiers shouted in their wild delight. 
The flick'rinof flames danced on the 

bivouacs round 
As if they too had pleasure in the sound. 
5 



66 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

LXXXII. 

And cocks crew loud that had some battle 
won, 
For this, too, was a soldiers' camp-fire sport, 
And woe that cock, who when his fight 
was done, 
Had no great news of victory to report ! 
Into the stew-pan straight his body came, 
Unknown to glory and unknown to fame. 

LXXXIII. 

But, lo ! for him, though common barn- 
yard fowl, 
Who had wrenched victory from some better 
blood, 

To him the cheers ; up rose the mighty 
howl 
As if some Caesar down the columns rode ; 

Glorious his fate, he lived, the soldiers' 
pride, 

As on some knapsack he would proudly 
ride. 

LXXXIV. 

Still round the camp the slaves like gypsies 
clung, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 67 

And lived on what their busy hands could 
find 
Of plenteous waste, or what the soldiers 
flung 
To them of bread, or food of any kind ; 
Content if they could only surely be 
Flying away from their sad slavery. 

LXXXV. 

For there was no one in that dusky throng 
Who did not see in their escaping thus 

A resurrection from the grave of wrong, 
And to their people God's new exodus ; 
So that no hardship seemed too great to 

stand, 
If but at last they reached their promised 
land. 

LXXXVI. 

Nor dared they halt, for oft behind them 
rode 
Men fierce of heart, enraged to see them fly 
From their hard masters, who in cruel 
mode 
Might capture all or slay them utterly ; 
And little choice was there for any one, 
To die like this or live as they had done. 



68 THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 

LXXXVII. 

Nor midst the troops was every man their 
friend ; 
At sight of wrong men were not always 
moved ; 
Some had in heart no sympathy to lend, 
And some the cnrse of slavery approved, 
And little recked if sorrow might befall, 
Or woful chance should put them back in 
thrall. 

LXXXVIII. 

Thus on a time, beside a rapid stream, 
A column slept — it was the early dawn ; 
And at their rear a thousand bondsmen 
dream 
Of sweetest days now swiftly coming on ; 
But ere the sun lit full the forest fair 
The column marched and left them sleep- 
ing there. 

LXXXIX. 

And then, as if by cruel war's mischance, 
The bridge is cut ere they have crossed the 
stream ; 
They see the rapid water's cold expanse, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 69 

And far away the blue-coats' rifles' gleam. 
"Horror!" they cry, to sudden death 

consigned, 
" The bridge is gone, and we are left 
behind ! " 

xc. 
Broad was the stream, most pitiful the cry 
Of that black throng quick-gathered on the 
shore ; 
They see their hopes in one dread instant 

Before them toil and slavery once more ; 
Dreading the foes, that close behind them 

ride, 
Wildly they wail, and plunge into the tide. 

xci. 
Old men and young, the weaklings and 
the strong, 
Unthinking rushed into the rolling stream; 
Like some wild herd the panic-stricken 
throng 
Went to its fate as in some horrid dream, 
Preferring death in the cold river's waves 
To going back as bondsmen and as slaves. 



70 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

XCII. 

Still some are saved ; the soldiers, kinder 

than 
The cruel fate that willed the fearful thing, 
Spring to the stream and do whate'er they 

can, 
And many a poor soul from the river bring. 
Yet all that day, adown that stream, 'twas 

said, 
Men saw naught else than bodies of the 

dead.* 

* Note 7. 



PART III. 



BALLAD. 

l. 

THE good old times were bravest times, 
Alas that they are by ! 
'Twas then the land's best citizens 
Were not afraid to die. 

2. 

Then Country meant to small or great 

A something to defend ; 
And nothing was too dear to give, 

No blood too good to spend. 

3. 

And no one asked if any time 

Or often he must fight, 
Or what the cause — 'twas one to him, 

His country must be right. 



72 TEE MARCH TO TEE SEA. 

4. 

Thus was it e'er Atlanta fell, 

And foes were put to rout ; 
When the great land was in despair, 

And clouds hung all about. 

5. 

A message came to Sherman's men — 

In cold and rags they stood, 
And many names of battle-plains 

Were written with their blood. 

6. 

" Oh ! by your hero past," it said, 

" And by each honored brow, 
Vain is the blood already spilt 

If you should leave us now." 

7. 

Then spake a colonel of the line : 

" Now, men, do as you may ; 
Three bloody years you've battled through, 

Your time is up to-day. 



THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 7S 



" Three bloody years of heat or cold, 
Of toil and marching far ; 

A hundred battles you have fought, 
And each man has his scar. 

9. 

" If 'tis your will, this moment ends 
Your dangers in the strife ; 

Say but the word and you go home 
To sweetheart or to wife. 



10. 



" But if that one or all should still 

His land's behest obey, 
Let him step forward as the sign 

He stands by it to-day." 



11, 



Calm stood each soldier in the line 
And thought the matter o'er ; 

Thought of his sweetheart, or of wife, 
But thought of country more. 



74 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

12. 

Ten paces out the colonel placed 

The torn and tattered rag. 
" Who wills it ? when the drum shall beat, 

Steps to the dear old flag." 

13. 

" Eyes right ; " they looked. " Eyes front ; 
they turned ; 

Each other's face they scan : 
One tap of drum — with steady step 

Came forward every man.* 



* Note 8. 



H 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 75 



XCIII. 

EAVENS ! such it was that made 
our armies great, 
And such it was that made our Country 
strong — 
A love of land, surpassing home ; the state 
Was men's first sweetheart four years long. 
And faithful they, who standing in that line, 
Stepped to the flag at the grim drummer's 
sign. 

xciv. 
And these were they now marching to the 
sea, 
With their dead comrades in their graves 
behind ; 
Little they recked what at the front might 
be, 
So that their banners floated to the wind ; 
For well they knew, so long as Sherman led, 
All would be well, whatever lay ahead. 



76 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

xcv. 

One time they camped beside a rolling 
stream, 
Their kinsmen foes upon the other side, 

In the green woods they saw their white 
tents gleam 
And heard the war-songs o'er the glistening 
tide. 

And in the night they heard their sen- 
tinel 

Cry, " Twelve o'clock, midnight, and all 
is well." 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 77 



AT THE RIVER. 

BESIDE the stream our bivouac lay, 
And by the other side 
The rebels camped, so close that they 

Could see us o'er the tide. 
And twice a day across the way 
They heard our bands of music play. 

Green grew the grass along the shore, 

Kissed by the morning dew ; 
Like a sweet dream the silent stream, 

Coursed its deep channel through ; 
While overhead the pine-trees said 
Low words as if they worshipped. 

The soft winds lifted the sweet mist, 

In happiness elate, 
And knew not if the flags they kissed 

Were flags of love or hate. 
With sweetest thrall God's dear winds fall 
In benediction over all. 



78 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And suddenly the band began 

Some sweet and loyal strain ; 
From the green woods the soldiers ran 

To hear the glad refrain. 
From shore to shore, the waters o'er, 
The gladsome winds the music bore. 

A truce to war that moment fell 

On blue coat and on gray ; 
Entrancing music's heavenly spell 

On the broad river lay. 
Nor sabre's gleam, nor bullet's scream, 
Disturbed the silent-flowing stream. 

Now sweeter still the music plays 

" My country, 'tis of thee." 
The blue-coat boys their voices raise, 

And sing it fervently. 
Sad hearts and sore, on yonder shore, 
The rebels love that song no more. 

Then Yankee Doodle fills the air, 

And slogans fierce of war ; 
And " Old John Brown," the soldiers there 

Take up the chorus far ; 
And far and near the blue-coats cheer 
The loyal music that they hear. 



THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 79 

A pause — and then the band resumes, 

'Tis " Dixie " is the strain ; 
And, hark ! across the stream there comes 

The rebels' loud refrain. 
Bronze-faced they stand, the gray-coat band, 
And cheer and cheer for Dixie Land. 

" Then rally round the flag," once more 

And loud the blue-coats cry, 
And mock them on the other shore 

With songs of loyalty. 
Till loud and clear, and far and near, 
Each side its own war slogans cheer. 

Then all at once the sweeter strain 
Of " Home, Sweet Home," is heard ; 

Both camps join in the dear refrain, 
And every heart is stirred. 

And, blue or gray, each soul that day 

Thought on his loved ones far away. 

For one sweet moment, and there seemed 

No North or South land there, 
Across the river's breast there gleamed 

The holiness of prayer. 
Forgot were hatred, wrong, and strife ; 
Each thought of sweetheart or of wife. 



80 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Oh ! had some power that moment come, 

To keep that music's strain, 
Then war and hate had all been dumb, 

There had been no more slain, 
But sweet surcease of war, the lease 
Of years that bringeth all men peace. 

Still, long as kindlier things shall last 

War's rude heart to adorn, 
No touching scene will have surpassed 

The pathos of that morn, 
When blue and gray, in one sweet lay, 
Together sang war's hates away. 



xcvi. 

STILL, northward came no news of all 
that host, 
Since that great day that saw Atlanta fall, 
Nor any knew if they should reach the 
coast, 
Or if in battle they were captured all. 

"Lost is that army," still grim rumor said, 
" Its legions captured, and its leader dead. " 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 81 

XCVII. 

Yet every day saw its great General ride 
Down the blue lines amidst the columns' 
cheers. 
Through forests dark, across savannahs 
wide, 
They tramped, nor thought of all the Nation's 
fears ; 
Content, if only their great leader's hand 
Should guide them safely through the 
unknown land. 

XCVIII. 

Night saw him silent in his camp alone, 
Or walking slowly by his bivouac fire, 

When all the army to its rest had gone — 

Unwearying soul that never seemed to tire ; 

What thoughts were his beneath that 

camp-fire's spell, 
When lonely midnight round his bivouac 
fell? 

XCIX. 

Heard he at times the far-off foeman's horn, 
And planned, in thought, some battle's great 
array ? 



82 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Saw he the charge, led he the hope forlorn, 
Through the red coals that in his camp-fire 
lay? 
Saw he afar the mighty conflict done, 
And his own name, of all, the glorious one ? 



Saw he through years the arch of triumph 
rise, 
The bronzed steeds, the trumpeters elate, 

The marble shafts that pierce the very skies 

To him whose name the people have called 

great ? 

Hears he afar the grateful bells they ring, 

The shouts of joy, the pseans that they 



sing? 



ci. 



Night wraps him round in her mysterious 
gloom, 
Above his head the fir trees waiting stand, 

Silent and dark, as is some funeral plume ; 
The glimmering camp-fire waves its magic 
wand ; 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 83 

Lone shadows creep about the silent place, 
And flickering lights fall on the leader's 
face. 

on. 

A form erect as is some sturdy oak, 
Alert, and tall, and quick in every move, 
A face deep carved, whose very wrinkles 
spoke, 
And lips that told of battle and of love. 
Brown, sparkling eyes, that ever seemed 

to shine, 
A lofty brow where genius sat divine. 

cm. 

Men said he was like Csesar ; only this — 
The imperial form and face, indeed, he 
had, 
But his ambition never went amiss, 
And love of glory ne'er did make him 
mad. 
Great though his deeds, and great though 

his renown, 
No Antony had dared to offer him a 
crown. 



84 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CIV. 

At times he heard some music's far-off 

strain, 
Or snatch of song beside some bivouac 

fire, 
And list'ning caught the gladsome notes 

again, 
Soft in the night as some seolian lyre ; 
And joyed to think his soldiers free from 

care, 
Though he himself had many a load to 

bear. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 85 



MIDNIGHT IN CAMP. 

y T I ^IS midnight in the camp, 

J- And starlight in the sky ; 
In a forest cold and damp 
Two mighty armies lie. 

A river rolled between, 

Where the lone pickets stood ; 
The camp-fire's faintest gleam 

Shone on the silent flood. 

Out of the darkness rides 

A cavalry brass band ; 
Down to the stream it glides, 

Down where the sentries stand. 

Their clanging swords we heard, 
As past the lines they went ; 

We questioned them no word, 
But wondered what it meant.. 

Low spake their leader : " Men, 
To-morrow is the fight ; 

The rebels in that glen 

Must hear us play to-night. 



86 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

" Let's play some loyal air 
They may not hear again, 

They'll know the strain out there — 
Some song of Sherman's men." 

And through the starlight fell, 
And midst the forest dim, 

Like some grand organ's swell, 
The Nation's battle-hymn. 

Strange thoughts were in the breast 

Of many a rebel there, 
Who, wakened from his rest, 

Heard that last loyal air. 

Oh ! many heard that night 
The last song of their life — 

There was no time to write 
To sweetheart or to wife. 

For morning saw them slain, 

Whose souls mayhap were stirred 

By that one loyal strain — 

The last song that they heard. 






THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 87 



CV. 

ONE night it was the chaplain's turn to 
tell 
Some story of great danger he had seen ; 
For though he preached, still he could 
fight as well ; 
In many a fray and skirmish he had been, 
And on his breast, when back his coat 

was rolled, 
They saw a badge of silver and pure gold. 

cvi. 

And now beside a little picket post, 
Far in advance of all the army's camp, 

Where but a handful of that mighty host 
Sat round a hidden fire within a swamp, 
He stirred the embers, slumbering low, 

and then 
Told them the tale of Andrews and his 
men. 



88 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



THE RAID OF THE ANDREWS MEN. 

'rj^WAS April eighteen sixty-two, 

J- Great Shiloh's bloody day. 
Brave Mitchell, with his men in blue. 

By Chattanooga lay. 
Far and alone he had come there, 

With but a thousand men, 
To chase the rebels to their lair, 

The lion to his den. 

" If I could take the town," he said, 

"With its high ridges, then 
I would not fear them though they led 

A hundred thousand men ; 
For to the lofty mountain pass 

It is the only key ; 
Who holds its gates, that moment has 

The whole of Tennessee. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 89 

" There is a railroad leading quite 

Into Atlanta town ; 
It brings the soldiers up who fight, 

And takes the wounded down. 
Had I some soldier bold enough 

To cross yon river's bar 
And burn the bridges on that road, 

'Twere worth a year of war. 

" But who would think to venture there 

With life so in his hand ? 
It were a deed no soul would dare 

For all the Southern land." 
Low spoke a captain of the guard — 

James Andrews was his name : 
" Well, General, 'twere not so hard 

As many a road to fame. 

" Give me a score of trusted men, 

Brown coats, instead of blue, 
And ere yon sun sinks twice again 

The deed is done for you. 
This very night in deep disguise 

Each on some path his own, 
Will wander where the river lies 

Behind yon mountain lone. 



90 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

" To-morrow night the train will go 

From Chattanooga town, 
And we will ride to Kenesaw 

Before the sun is down. 
And there we'll hide and wait the train, 

That's coming North next day, 
And overpower the guards, and gain 

The engine on its way. 

" Be ready, you, to take the place 

By noon if all goes well ; 
How far we've run the fearful race 

Each burning bridge will tell. 
But if no flame nor smoke you see, 

Beyond yon mountain's head, 
Fly quickly out of Tennesee 

And know that we are dead." 

That night, through storm and forests damp, 

By many a darkening stream, 
A band of men set out from camp 

Under the lightning's gleam. 
Before, around, the foemen lay, 

The night grew stormier still, 
But still they kept their dangerous way 

Past Chattanooga's hill. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 91 

" Who are the men who ride with us 

From Chattanooga town ? 
They are not foenien, coming thus, 

Their garb our homely brown ? 
Only their faces all are pale ; 

Why are they all so still ? 
Some came on board at Ringgold vale, 

And some at Tunnel Hill." 

So spake the people in the train, 

But night came on ere long ; 
Some talked of harvests, and the rain, 

Some passed the hours in song. 
But no one guessed that when the light 

Should tinge the mountain's crown, 
A hundred men would be in fight 

With twenty men in brown. 

No sleep that night for any one 

Of that heroic band, 
And all were glad of morning's sun, 

To bring the game to hand. 
God ! 'twas a sight for one who knew 

What errand they were on, 
To see how firm their faces grew, 

Their eyes, how strange they shone. 



92 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Low spake the leader : " Men, I know 

To count on every one ; 
We know what thing we've got to do, 

'Twere good that it were done. 
Five minutes, and the train is here ; 

Keep cool, as you are now." 
Each thought of some one far and dear, 

And wiped his moistening brow. 

Right by them stood the foemen's camp, 

With many a sentinel ; 
The sun rose like some mighty lamp 

And tinged the mountain swell. 
No word is said ; no soul holds back ; 

One moment still for prayer, 
And roaring down the railroad track 

The train is coming there. 

" Ten minutes here for breakfast, men," 

They hear the trainmen cry. 
" We'll make it more," said Andrews then, 

A strange look in his eye. 
He watched the passengers get out, 

The trainmen hurry through ; 
Loud rang the gong, the hungry rout 

Quick to the table flew. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 93 






" Now is our time, if ever, men, 

The leader softly said ; 
And every eye was turned, and then 

He signalled with his head. 
One glance along the line he flung, 

One glance his comrades gave, 
And to the train the twenty sprung, 

As if 'twere from the grave. 

Three men upon the engine leap, 

Upon the tender, ten, 
And seven among the baggage keep ; 

They are strong-hearted men. 
A pin is drawn, the train's in two, 

One half is left behind, 
And quick the engine leaped and flew, 

As if 'twere on the wind. 

The rebel soldiers fire and shout, 

The wheels fly on amain, 
Alarmed, the trainmen hurry out, 

And curse the stolen train. 
" To horse," cry some, and well they need ; 

And some stand by and swear 
That never yet was such a deed 

Of daring anywhere. 



94 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

" 'Tis thirty miles to Kingston town/' 

Cries Fuller ; brave is he. 
" We'll catch them there, a train comes down, 

The mail from Tennessee. 
Steam up yon locomotive, quick, 

The < Yonah,' flying bird ; 
We'll teach the Yankees such a trick 

As they have never heard. 

" Their engine is the l General, ' 

And she is strong and fleet ; 
But ' Yonah ' is the little girl 

That never yet was beat. 
Fill her with soldiers, quick, for when 

We meet, full sure it is, 
There will be fighting fierce with men 

Who'd dare a thing like this." 

On, on, they fly, the Andrews men, 

Quick as the bounding deer, 
When through the woods and down the glen 

The horn and hounds they hear. 
But practiced hands hold at the bar, 

The throttles open wide, 
The engine bounds and leaps, and far 

For life or death they ride. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 95 

They only stop to break the track, 

Or cut the wires down, 
Or do some thing to make a wrack, 

This side of Kingston town. 
"What's all of this?" the Kingston folk 

Cry, when they see the ten ; 
u Here's Fuller's engine roaring hot, 

But where are Fuller's men ? " 

And freight and mail trains crowd them thick ; 

There is no room, alas ! 
" Move out, you thieves," cried Andrews, 
quick, 

" And let the Special pass. 
For I am bound for Beauregard, 

With powder and with lead ; 
Who stops the Special Shiloh-ward 

Will pay it with his head." 

That moment and there is a wrack 

And roaring far behind ; 
For Fuller's men have cleared the track — 

He, too, comes like the wind. 
Amazed, the people hear the din, 

And wonder what's about, 
For just as Fuller's train comes in 

The Andrews train goes out. 



96 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And on, and on, and on, they fly, 

On six wheels or on four ; 
The smoke pours out, the clouds go by, 

The mighty engines roar. 
" Stop, quick, and tear the tracks again," 

Cries Andrews, " and load on 
A hundred railroad ties, my men ; 

We'll throw them as we run. 

" More steam, more oil, pile in the wood, 

Brakes off, and let her go." 
Two strong men hold the lever good ; 

Two strong men fuel throw. 
White are the hot flames roaring there, 

And white the roaring steam, 
And white the faces of the men 

That hear the " Yonah " scream. 

On, on, and on ; the people stare, 

As past the towns they fly ; 
A lightning's flash is on Adair, 

A storm is in the sky. 
" Now, let her run for all she's worth 

Before our fuel's wet ; 
There is no longer time to halt, 

Nor any wood to get." 



THE MABCR TO THE SEA. 97 

The engine rocks to left and right, 

The tender springs in air ; 
By heaven ! it was a stirring sight, 

To see them flying there ! 
The hundred ties they quickly fling 

Along the railroad track ; 
But ties, nor logs, nor anything 

Can keep the " Yonah " back. 

She, too, bounds roaring up and down ; 

At railroad ties they scoff, 
And fast as Andrews flings them down, 

So fast they fling them off. 
Nearer and nearer still they come, 

Their musket's crash is red ; 
" Pour on the oil, and give her room," 

Was all that Andrews said. 

" Pour on the oil and burn the car, 

Perhaps as we pass through, 
Its flames may catch yon bridge's bar 

And burn the bridges too." 
Lord, Lord ! it was a sight to see, 

As any sight of war, 
The storm, now raging fearfully, 

The burning, flying car, 



98 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

The flaming at the engine's wheels, 

The red-hot musket's flash, 
The " Yonah " flying on their heels, 

The mighty thunder's crash. 
Lord, help them ! Look, the wheels stop still 

Upon the slippery track ; 
Too steep the grade of yonder hill, 

The engine will go back ! 

A scream, a shout, a mighty yell ! 

The " Yonah's " within hail. 
" Too late, ye rebels, with your curse, 

Our engine takes the rail." 
And faster, louder than before, 

Down the steep grade she runs ; 
They hear the " Yonah's " angry roar, 

The crashing of her guns. 

Oh ! for one little hour of time, 

Some moments of delay, 
So near is glory unto crime, 

Failure to victory ! 
In their brave hands a nation's hope 

Hangs trembling in the scale — 
Lord ! but five minutes on yon slope 

And they were out of hail ! 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 99 

But who can fight with storm and fate ? 

The engine has stopped still ; 
The " Yonah," past the Summit gate, 

Is roaring down the hill ! 
" Quick, spring, my men, to yonder wood ! *' 

It is the leader's cry, 
And right and left by copse and flood 

The twenty soldiers fly. 

What steam and storm could never do 

Is done with horse and hound, 
And here and there by swamp and slough, 

The little band is found. 
God help them now, an angrier foe 

Was never theirs to meet, 
The prison gate, the dungeon low, 

The scaffold in the street ! 

By Chattanooga's hill-girt town, 

Within a shady glen, 
The wild-flowers and the lilacs crown 

The graves of Andrews' men. 
Earth holds their earth ; their honored names 

To children shall go down 
So long as heroes' names have worth, 

Or brave deeds have renown.* 

* Note 9. 



100 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



CVII. 

THE story closed, and for a little spell 
They who had listened spoke not 
any word, 
Nor thought if any other there might 
tell 
A tale so sad as this one they had heard. 
But soon they talked of other things till 

dawn 
Put out the stars, and brought the morn- 
ing on. 

CVIII. 

A few recalled the weariness of war, 
And longed for homes that they might 
never see; 
Little to them was shoulder-strap or star, 
Their trusted guns their only blazonry. 
What theirs to hope ? A grave in some 

lone spot, 
Their valorous deeds, their very names, 
forgot. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 101 

CIX. 

Nor was that march one long great holi- 
day, 
With naught to do but tramp along and 
sing, 

New sights to cheer them on their 
wondrous way, 
And blazing camp-fires, endless frolicking; 

Full many a night on cold and sodden 
ground 

Their only rest, their only sleep, they 
found. 

ex. 

Glad if some tree its kindly branches 

lent, 
Some fallen trunk kept off a little rain, 
Till the cold storm, its blast and fury 

spent, 
Died with the night, and morning dawned 

again. 
When round new fires the veterans 

essayed 
Their garb to dry, their cups of coffee 

made. 



102 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CXI. 

And some recalled how, when the roads 

were worst, 
And trains mired down, deep in the mud 

and sand, 
When teams gave out, and drivers howled 

and curst, 
The soldiers pulled the wagons out by 

hand ; 
How days they tramped through muddy 

fields to free 
The roads for trains and the artillery. 

cxn. 

How false alarms had led them many a 
mile; 
The ignis fatuus that was never found ; 
The scanty food, the tireless camp the 
while, 
The dang'rous foe that still was lurking 
round — 
Of such their speech ; of such it still had 

been, 
Had not one said, "Let us have tales 
again." 
# # # * # 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 103 



WAR VIOLETS. 

TWO days and nights the battle swept 
Through all the forest round ; 
Two days and nights the wounded slept 
Upon the sodden ground. 

Then came the roll-call ; every name 

Accounted for but one. 
Some dead upon the field of fame ; 

Some wounded ; missing, none. 

" Yes, Barton Jones," the sergeant cried. 

The youngest lad was he ; 
He rode close to the Captain's side 

In that brave company. 

" Has no one seen him ? Men, go out 

And search among the dead. 
Look in yon wild woods all about 

Where last the foemen fled." 



104 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

They found him in the shady glen, 
Hemmed in by many a tree, 

Among the bodies of dead men 
That kept him company. 

Wounded, alone, in pain he'd crept 
The shady glen around, 

To pick the violets that slept 
Tn the sweet-scented ground. 

Kindly they bore him to the rear, 
The violets on his breast ; 

And no strong man but shed a tear 
When he was put to rest. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 105 



CXIII. 

TOUCHED by the words, no comrade 
round that fire 
But saw in thought some far-off village 
green, 
A mother weeping, and a gray-haired 
sire, 
A youthful soldier parting from the scene ; 
A sister, smiling 'twixt the tears that 

flow ; 
A sweetheart proud to see her lover go. 

cxiv. 

And farther still than village green or 

street, 
They see a glen where bluest violets lie, 
And that fair youth, like to the flowers 

so sweet, 
Trampled and torn with death's artillery. 
Ah ! North or South, bitter for you the 

day 
When your dear hearts among the violets 

lay! 



106 THE MARCH TO TEE SEA. 

cxv. 

Again the soldier told a tale of one, 
He, too, a boy, on Chattanooga's field, 
Who, when the roar of the great fight 
was done, 
Lay on the grass that his life-blood had 
sealed ; 
Dying, he thought of his heart's pain no 

more, 
But that dear flag that he to triumph 
bore. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 107 



ALMOST UP.* 

TWAS Chattanooga's battlefield ; 
The night was filled with stars ; 
Two strong men bore a soldier back ; 
He wore a sergeant's bars. 

A color-sergeant of the line, 
On the high ridge he fell, 

Where the old colonel gave the sign 
To charge them with a yell. 

None braver climbed the battle hill 
Or stormed the dangerous pass, 

Than he, now lying pale and still, 
Upon the blood-stained grass. 

Beneath the torchlight's flick' ring glare, 
Under the starlight dim, 

The busy surgeons labored there 
Until they came to him. 

* Note 10. 



108 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

" Where are you wounded, sergeant?" 
said 
The kind-faced surgeon. "Where? 

Eight at the top, sir" said the lad ; 
" The bullet struck me there." 

" Ah ! boy, I know. But where f I 
mean," 
Again, in kind surprise. 

" Just as I said, sir, at the top ; " 
Steady his deep-blue eyes. 

" Yes, yes, I see ! " The surgeon tore 
The sleeve from off his arm — 

A bleeding gash. " Yes, doctor — there 
Is what did all the harm. 

" I was 'most up — right at the top, 
When the ball struck me here — 

Yes, almost up." Out in the woods 
He heard his comrades cheer. 

And faint he heard the pearly gates 
Swing outward on the air, 

And still he whispered, " Almost up — 
The flag was almost there." 




PONCE. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 109 



PONCE DE LEON. 

THROUGH the woods and the smoke 
intense, 
Charged the lines of the regiment, 
Over the field and the low stone fence ; 
And the old dog went where the Captain 
went. 
Once we halted. Lord ! how hot ! 
Grape and canister filled the air ; 
The Captain fell, and I saw the spot, 

And we all went back ; but the dog stayed 
there. 

Through the fight of the afternoon, 

Kept he watch by his master dead, 
Through the fight till the sun went down, 
And the new moon rose on the field in- 
stead. 
" Sound a truce," said the General ; then, 
" Gather our wounded from off the 
plain." 



110 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

With biers and spades went the burying 
men 
Out in the moonlight amongst the slain, 

Till they came to one with a Captain's bars. 

Far at the front, by the fence, he died ; 
And they saw by the light of the moon and 
stars, 

The old dog dead by the Captain's side. 
In the field, in the starlight there, 

Under the flag they had died to save, 
Under the moonlight, fresh and fair, 

They buried them both in a soldier's 
grave. 

Softly and gently, within the ground ; 

War's fierce terror has still amends. 
Some words they wrote by the little mound : 

" Sacred, forever, to two good friends." 
Ponce de Leon, the St. Bernard, 

True in life, and in death more true, 
In the time of the great reward, 

He will stand at the right hand, too. 



THE MABCH TO THE SEA. Ill 



CXVI. 

OTILL marched the soldiers, journeying 
on and on ; 
A bold, brave foe hung round them left and 
right ; 
The little towns, with half their people 
gone, 
Looked in amazement at the wondrous sight ; 
Some saw with scorn, a few with secret 

tears, 
The stars and stripes they had not seen 
for years. 

cxvu. 

For years that flag had been a hidden 

thing ; 

Men had not dared unfurl that banner there ; 

No little children now were taught to sing 

" God bless our land ! " The loyal, in despair, 

Whispered their griefs ; no soul aloud 

dare pray 
For his own country in that awful day. 



112 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CXVIII. 

And now they see this mighty army come, 
Like some vast cloud, with vengeance in its 
train ; 
With woful faces, trembling lips and 
dumb, 
Once more they hear the loyal bugle's strain ; 
For one short day, above the village gate, 
Waves the old flag they have been taught 
to hate. 

cxix. 

Waves the old flag — and then the bitter 
end : 
The torch, the flame ; their homes, before 
the night, 
With the soft winds their ashes quickly 
blend ; 
War's whirlwind stoops to tear them in its 
flight. 
And morning comes to see a naked land, 
And trampled fields, where smoking ruins 
stand. * 

* Note 11, 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 113 

cxx. 

Maddened to rage the Kebel horsemen fly 
And fling themselves upon their foemen 
there ; 
Useless, they only find a place to die ; 
Their own brown fields become their 
sepulchre. 
For them no household fires again may 

burn, 
No village bells ring out their glad return. 

cxxi. 

In some lone swamp, or by some roadside 
drear, 
In years to come some epitaph will tell 

How, " In this mound alone is sleeping here 
A soldier boy they buried where he fell." 
Enough the words, whichever side he stood : 
" He thought it right, — lies here, and God 
is good." 

CXXII. 

Oft, too, by night the columns hurried on, 
Hearing dull cannon on some far-off flank, 



114 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

And though their feet had journeyed 

since the dawn, 
And here and there one at the roadside sank, 
Still on they marched, till some dark 

river's breast, 
Its bridges burned, gave them a moment's 

rest. 

CXXIII. 

Then came a scene, most weird and won- 
drous grand : 
A thousand torches in the forest stood ; 

A thousand men with axe or saw in hand 
Hew down the trees, and bridge the rolling 
flood ; 
And planks and ropes from the high banks 

are strung, 
And light pontoons across the water flung. 

CXXIV. 

Throughout the darkness flares the pine- 
knot's light, 
And shadowy forms are hurrying to and fro, 

The dark stream gurgles off into the night, 
The bonfires glimmer on the sands below ; 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 115 

Gigantic seem the horsemen as they ride 
Out of the woods, down to the river side. 

cxxv. 

The bridge is finished, forward moves the 
line, 
With steady step to the low-beating drum, 

With glare and smoke from out the dark- 
ling pine, 
'Neath flick'ring lights the silent columns 
come. 

The stream is crossed, the dying torches 
fall 

On the wet sand, and darkness covers all. 

cxxvi. 

Sometimes again the march was lightly 

done; 

Steady the tramp, commencing with the morn, 

E'er yet the light of the fair rising sun 

Tinged half in gold the dry leaves of the 

corn. 

Then noontide saw them by some shaded 

stream, 
In bivouac resting, and their fires agleam. 



116 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



CXXVII. 

On grassy knolls some sleep the long 
hours through ; 
With dice and cards some chase the time 
away, 
Or fighting cocks, or football ; not a few 
In dance, or tale, or music find their play; 
For long as war is of the world a part, 
So long will music move the soldier's 
heart. 

cxxvni. 

Their muskets stacked in long, clear rows 

of steel, 
The sun's slant rays on polished bayonets 

shine ; 
One bugle call or one loud cannon peal, 
And every soldier had been up in line. 
The drum's long roll, one cry, " Fall in ! " 

and then 
That darkling wood had turned to armed 

men. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 117 

CXXIX. 

Quick fly the hours ; the sunset crimsons 

by; 
Night comes, the woods with camp-fires are 

ablaze, 
In smoke the glimmering branches sway 

on high, 
Illumed yet ghostly in the bivouac's rays. 
The tattoo sounds, the guards their vigils 

keep ; 
" Tattoo," "Lights out," and all the 

soldiers sleep. 

cxxx. 

The soldiers sleep ; and yet, perchance, 

ere morn, 
Some fierce surprise falls on th' unconscious 

men ; 
Some cannon's boom on the night air is 

borne, 
Or flashing rifles rattle in the glen ; 

Then beat the drums, and all the camp's 

a-din, 
The bugles sound, the sergeants cry, 

" Fall in ! " 

^> 3*P T? 3rP ^P 



118 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



KILPATRICK'S CAVALRY CHARGE. 

QUIET that night in our camp we lay, 
The pine trees softly above us stirred ; 
The brook sang low on its winding way ; 
Only these were the sounds we heard. 

Suddenly, and there came a flash, 
Blazing red in the wooded glen ; 

And that quick moment a cannon's crash, 
Into the midnight among our men. 

Little we needed the bugle's blare, 
Little the noise of the scaring drum, 

For quick in line we were standing there, 
Waiting the foe if he dare to come. 

Long we stood in the forest gloom, 

Silence only along the line, 
Save when a foeman's gun would boom 

And tear the limbs from a trembling 
pine. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 119 

Fair was the dawn when at last it came, 
Glowing and red o'er the field it lay ; 

And beyond the wood, by its tinted flame, 
We saw a line of the men in gray. 

How they looked when we saw them there, 
Loading their guns for our men in blue ! 

And they burst their shells on the Sabbath 
air; 
Over our heads in the woods they flew. 

Over our heads, and we laughed at first, 
Till their lines broke out in a spluttering 
flash, 
And a hurry of musketry from them burst, 
And we thought no more of the cannon's 
crash. 

" Cavalry, mount," came the clear command, 
As down before us Kilpatrick rode ; 

His saber glistened in his right hand, 
Over his shoulders his fair hair flowed. 

"We will drive them out of that field and lane. 

Steady ! " he said, to the waiting line ; 
And he looked straight into our eyes again, 

As we waited only to see his sign. 



120 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Oh ! the dawn, it was fair to see ; 

Rosy and fresh on the fields it fell ; 
And clear, that moment, as clear could be — 

Oh ! we heard the voice of Kilpatrick 
well! 

" Front rank, sabers, and pistols, rear : 
Forward, gallop, and charge ! " he cried. 

Over the ditch and the fences near, 

Straight at the guns of the foes we ride. 

Down the hill and across the brook, 

Up the slope like a hurricane ; 
The very ground with our squadrons shook, 

And charging troopers fell thick as rain. 

Over the fence and the barricades, 

Dashing, cheering, we cut our way, 
And we hear the thud of our slashing 
blades, 
On the stubborn heads of the men in 
gray. 

Smite and pound on the rebel head, 
Strike and thrust at the blue dragoon, 

Till the desperate gunners all are dead — 
They are lying still as a day in June. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 121 

" Now, right about ! " for the day is ours ; 

Back to the woods, for the lane is won ; 
But oh ! the grass and the withered flowers 

Are red with blood when the charge is 
done ! 

Once again in the line we stand, 

And down before us Kilpatrick rides ; 

His saber glistens in his right hand, 

And his face glows fair like a new-made 
bride's. 

Cheer after cheer as he rides along ! 

But the soldiers lying dead 
Will never know of the cheers and song, 

Or the words Kilpatrick said.* 



* Note 12. 



122 THE MABCH TO TEE SEA. 



CXXXI. 

AND now it seemed as if they could go 
on 

Forever marching in this wondrous way ; 
The morning's foe at evening would be 
gone; 
Nothing there was that could that army stay. 
With lightsome step they marched, and 

cheered and sang ; 
The hills re-echoed, and the forests rang. 

cxxxn. 

And all were happy, for right well they 
knew, 
That march once done, — the South cut clean 
in twain, — 
Sweet peace would come, the war would 
then be through, 
And they would see their far-off homes 
again. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 123 

And so with hopes like happy children 

they 
Marched laughing on, and war was almost 

play. 

CXXXIII. 

Till on a day they fell upon a land, 
Low, flat, and sterile ; void of everything 
For man or beast. The cold unpitying 
sand 
To their tired ankles went; nor budding 
spring 
Nor summer made that region wholly fair, 
Nor pierced the sun the dull, dark forests 
there. 

cxxxiv. 

Now more the foe pressed hard at every 
stream, 
Held every bridge, in every swamp lay hid ; 
In the swamp's twilight and its murky 
gleam, 
No soul could see of anything they did, 
Nor hear alarm, till, suddenly, a flash, 
A cry of pain, and a fierce musket's crash. 



124 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

cxxxv. 

Hungry and tired, they who had hoped 
before, 
Now feared a little what might happen yet ; 

For little now the wagons had in store, 
In these last days that seemed so desperate. 
And all men knew that hurrying armies 

could 
Still cut them off in some great swamp or 
wood. 

cxxxvi. 

But on a day, while tired and sore they 

went, 
Across some hills wherefrom the view was 

free, 
A sudden shouting down the lines was 

sent ; 
They looked and cried, " It is the sea ! the 

sea ! " 
And all at once a thousand cheers were 

heard, 
And all the army shout the glorious 

word. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 125 

CXXXVII. 

Not since that day when the great 
Genoese 
Placed his proud feet upon a new-found 
world, 
Had such glad shouts gone up to heaven 
as these, 
When to the breeze the old flag was un- 
furled, 
And all the army in one mighty song 
Passed the glad news, "It is the sea" 
along. 

cxxxvin. 

Bronzed soldiers stood and shook each 
other's hands ; 
Some wept for joy, as for a brother found ; 

And down the slopes, and from the far- 
off sands, 
They thought they heard already the glad 
sound 

Of the old ocean welcoming them on 

To that great goal they had so fairly 
won. 



126 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CXXXIX. 

High waved the flags, and every bugle 

played ; 
And silver bands whose notes had not been 

heard 
For days, in the dull forests where we'd 

strayed, 
Where joyous songs our hearts had never 

stirred, 
Poured forth their notes ; yet little heeded 

we, 
Our souls too busy with that glistening 

sea. 

CXL. 

Now all at once things sad turned into 

The very swamps seemed changed to fairy 
green, 
No longer dull the fields about us lay, 
Turned to enchantment the inglorious scene ; 
Forgot the weariness, the toil, the pain ; 
Forgot were e'en our hapless buried 
slain. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 127 

CXLI. 

To see this ocean ! that was joy supreme ; 
Not in our lives had ever we before 

Seen such a sight ; and like some fairest 
dream 
Sped the quick moments, for that shining 
shore 
To our glad hearts, and to our wondering 

eyes, 
Gleamed like the storied gates of Paradise. 

CXLII. 

Some swore they tasted sea-salt in the air, 
Some strained their eyes at little specks far 

off, 
And called them ships, and looked for 

sailors there ; 
And some saw fleets in the deep ocean 

trough, 
Laden with bread and all good cheer that 

we 
Could crave, who brought such glorious 

victory. 



128 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CXLIII. 

At times we thought we heard the very 

waves, 
Though distant miles the white sea still from 

us, 
Or the low murmuring by the shore, 

where laves 
The water, restless as mankind ; and thus 
Our hearts went faster than our feet, and 

none 
But said, " At last the weary war is 

done ! " 

CXLIV. 

But lo! behold! just as the end was 
near, 
A cannon boomed across the army's way ; 

And by the sea we plainly saw appear 
A frowning fort, strong held by men in 

And round about it palisades so high, 
Who charged that fort might surely fear 
to die. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 129 

CXLV. 

Black, belching guns frowned on its par- 
apet ; 
And though we wept to see the sweet sea's 
face, 

The longed-for goal was not accomplished 

yet, 

And that fair shore might be our burial 
place. 

Then, suddenly, our leader's form ap- 
peared, 

The proud flags waved, and all the army 
cheered. 

CXLVI. 

Long looked he there out on the whiten- 
ing sea, 
Scanning in vain some little trace to find 

Of friendly fleet, if any there might be, 
Or signal flag, upon the evening wind. 
But fleet, nor flag, nor ship was anywhere, 
No sign to tell they knew that we were 
there. 
9 



130 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CXLVII. 

That hour held fate, and well our leader 

knew, 
One short delay and all could still be 

lost — 
All that we hoped, and all we had come 

through, 
And his own fame, and all that marching 

host. 
Anxious he gazed into the speechless 

space ; 
And, breathless, looked we in our leader's 

face. 

CXLVIII. 

" Men," then said he, " yon fort that's in 

our course, 

This very night must come into our hands." 

Then cheered we all, and many clamored 

hoarse, 

To have that honor, in the woods and sands 

To storm the fort, and ere the sun be 

set 
Wave the old flag above its parapet. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 131 

CXLIV. 

Then quiet marched five thousand veterans 
The dark woods through, by dauntless Hazen 
led — 

Through half-cleared fields, by swamps 
and boggy fens, — 
While from the fort the shells shrieked over- 
head; 

Till all at once the bugles sounded clear, 

" On to the works ! " We answered with 
a cheer. 

CL. 

The dear flags waved, and all the lines 
went on, 
Toward belching guns, past those high pali- 
sades, 

In the dark smoke ; one moment they were 
gone, 
And then one cry, one mighty charge, they 
made ; 

Into the fort a thousand blue-coats 
sprung ; 

The stars and stripes above its walls are 
flung ! * 

* Note 13. 



132 THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 

CLI. 

Bright shone the moon upon the fort that 
night, 
And bright it shone upon the glistening sea ; 

And far below we saw by its pale light, 
Our ships of war that lay there silently ; 

And on the faces of our dead it shone — 

Blue coat or gray, to them it was all one. 

CLII. 

And all that night beneath the Southern 
moon, 
With dead around us, all so patiently, 

We sat and talked of that fierce battle 
noon, 
Until we saw the sun rise from the sea ; 
And when it rose in all its glory, then 
We sang the song of Sherman and his 
men. 



THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 133 



SONG OF SHERMAN'S MARCH TO 

THE SEA. 

OU R camp-fires shone bright on the 
mountains, 
That frowned on the river below, 
While we stood by our guns in the morning 

And eagerly watched for the foe, 
When a rider came out from the darkness 

That hung over mountain and tree, 
And shouted, " Boys, up and be ready, 
For Sherman will march to the sea." 

Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman, 

Went up from each valley and glen, 
And the bugles re-echoed the music 

That came from the lips of the men. 
For we knew that the stars in our banner 

More bright in their splendor would be, 
And that blessings from Northland would 
greet us 

When Sherman marched down to the sea. 



184 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

Then forward, boys, forward to battle, 

We marched on our wearisome way, 
And we stormed the wild hills of Resaca ; 

God bless those who fell on that day ! 
Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory, 

Frowned down on the flag of the free, 
But the East and the West bore our stand- 
ards, 

And Sherman marched on to the sea. 



Still onward we pressed, till our banners 

Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls, 
And the blood of the patriot dampened 

The soil where the traitor flag falls ; 
Yet we paused not to weep for the fallen, 

Who slept by each river and tree ; 
We twined them a wreath of the laurel 

As Sherman marched down to the sea. 



Oh ! proud was our army that morning, 
That stood where the pine darkly towers, 

When Sherman said, " Boys, you are weary ; 
This day fair Savannah is ours ! " 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 135 

Then sang we a song for our chieftain, 
That echoed o'er river and lea, 

And the stars in our banner shone brighter 
When Sherman marched down to the sea.* 



* Note 14. 



136 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



CLIII. 

IT was the end, and yet one march the 
more ; 
The Carolinas heard our columns' tread ; 
Th' unhappy town that first began the 
war 
In ashes lay, with half its soldiers dead. 
On land and sea the glorious tidings 

swell, 
And Sumter rose the day that Charleston 
fell. 

CLIV. 

And proud Columbia, too, in ruins lay, 
And shrieking shells passed through its halls 
of state, 
Then all bethought them of that other 
day 
When in these halls Secession sat elate. 
Now, too, on far-off Appomattox field 
Grant hurls the storm, and soon the foe- 
men yield. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 137 

CLV. 

Then came that deed, ah ! wofullest of 
all, 
That dreadful deed, that treason's self o'er- 
leapt ; 
Black night of nights that saw great Lin- 
coln fall, 
The one great soul for whom the whole 
world wept. 
First, peace he saw, then laid his troubles 

by, 

Crowned by mankind with immortality. 

CLVI. 

It was the end ; in yonder Capital 
The trumpets sounded for one last parade ; 
Far in the South the veterans heard the 
call ; 
For one last tramp the army is arrayed. 
Five hundred miles, the march is quickly 

o'er, 
Their white camps gleam by the Potomac's 
shore. 



138 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

CLVIL 

And on a morn, a wondrous morn in 

May 
It was proclaimed that through the Avenue 
The mighty host should take its glorious 

way, 
And all the land as one be there to view ; 
Not in all time had such a sight, I 

ween, 
Of Freedom's hosts in the wide world been 

seen. 

CLVIII. 

From many a field the veteran armies 

came, 
And East and West went glorious side by 

side ; 
Together felt the thrilling joys of fame, 
The people's heroes and the nation's pride ; 
Together now their long blue columns 

wheel 
Up the long street, one sea of sloping 

steel. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 139 

CLIX. 

Two days they marched on that great 
Avenue ; 
Two days they cheered, that mighty multi- 
tude, 

And flowers and wreaths upon their heads 
they threw ; 
And all men called the land's defenders 
good ; 

And all gave thanks, now the great war 
was done, 

To see these men who had such victories 
won. 

CLX. 

But most of all that moved beholders 
then, 
Were the freed bondsmen marching two by 
two, 
Not captive wives and chained and scowling 
men, 
Such as of old the Roman triumphs knew, 
But men made free, their days of bondage 

o'er, 
And all rejoiced that slavery was no more. 



140 THE MABCH TO THE SEA. 

CLXI. 

And some shed tears, glad, joyous tears, 

to know 
What things unhoped had come about at 

last; 
He was raised high who yesterday was low ; 
Round the poor slave the Nation's arm was 

cast 
Long years the land had passed beneath 

the rod ; 
Now through it all men saw the hand of 

God. 

CLXII. 

And marching thus the glorious armies 

went, 
Never again to muster in review ; 

Past the great leaders, past the President, 
Swayed crests of steel upon great waves of 

blue. 
And Sherman ! Once his face his soldiers 

saw, 
And lingering looked, and gave one last 

hurrah ! 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 141 

CLXIII. 

One last hurrah ! To him that parting 
cheer 
Was more than fame and glory ever were. 

What if he wept ? It was a soldier's tear ; 
They were his comrades who were marching 
there. 

Long, long he looked, moved with a mighty 
spell, 

Then, silent, waved a long, a last fare- 
well. 

CLXIV. 

But in her shrines where glory loves to 
keep 
Record of souls she dedicates to fame, 
There in her marble, pure, clean-cut, and 
deep, 
Behold ! men see the letters of his name ; 
And underneath, in characters as free, 
" To them who marched with Sherman 
to the sea" 



142 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 



ADIEU. 
1. 

IIS said that once in times of old 
A wizard touched a land, 
And turned its hillsides into gold, 
To silver all its sand. 

2. 

A kindlier wizard cast a spell 

Upon the South, and lo ! 
Where once war's dreadful harvests fell 

Now corn and cotton grow. 



3. 



Sweet meadows mark the shaded glen 
That war with bullets sowed, 

And roses line the lanes again 
Where Sherman's troopers rode. 



THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 143 

4. 

In yonder wood, where once was heard 

The cannon's deadly hail, 
With softer notes the heart is stirred, 

By some sweet nightingale. 



War's wasted fields have grown to green, 
The streams in Sherman's path 

Turn busy wheels, no more the scene 
Of battle's deadly wrath. 



6. 



And they whose swords were sharp to slay 3 

Have felt war's anger cease, 
And busy commerce leads the way 

In paths of love and peace. 

7. 

What matters now if they were wrong ? 

They were our kith and kin, 
And they were brave, and tale and song 

Shall tell what they have been. 



144 THE MARCH TO THE SEA. 

8. 

Once more in fair Atlanta town 
The moonlight shines, as when 

War's bugles sounded up and down ; 
The sweet-briar climbs as then. 

9. 

And North or South, 'tis all the same, 

By pine tree or by bay, 
One starry banner guards the fame 

Of blue coat and of gray. 



NOTES. 

Note 1, p. 13. After the capture of Atlanta, General 
Sherman ordered all the people to leave the town, and 
for weeks the city was absolutely deserted and silent, 
though the victorious army camped in the woods around 
it for weeks. The Confederate army, on losing the 
town, retired farther south. The unarmed people of 
Atlanta found homes where best they could, in the 
villages and on plantations. Many of them never saw 
Atlanta again. 

Note 2, p. 27. The March to the Sea commenced at 
four o'clock in the morning of November 15, 1864. Sher- 
man had sixty-two thousand, two hundred, and four 
men and sixty-five cannon. It was three hundred miles 
to Savannah. The army marched in two great wings, 
Howard leading the right, Slocum the left. The army 
corps were commanded by Generals Blair, Davis, 
Williams, and Osterhaus. The twelve divisions were 
led by Corse, Geary, Force, Ward, Mower, Morgan, 
Woods, Hazen, Smith, Leggett, Baird, and Carlin. All 
were veteran generals, and the soldiers were hardened 
by many battles. There were five thousand cavalry 
under General Kilpatrick. 

The campaign commenced, in fact, not at Atlanta, 
but away back at Chattanooga, and the hundred days' 
battles on the way to Atlanta had been the first act of 
the great drama. It was the romantic campaign of the 
war. Many in the North supposed Sherman's army to 
be lost. It had, in fact, wholly disappeared from all 
knowledge of the government at Washington. It had 
entered the unknown interior of Georgia, with its woods 
io 145 



146 NOTES. 

and swamps, and all communication with it was cut off. 
That was the romance of it all. In front of Sherman 
were the Georgia militia and General Wheeler's cavalry, 
also a few eastern troops ; while the forts of Savannah, 
which would have to be captured, were held by strong 
forces of veterans under General Hardee. Lee was also 
likely at any moment to send some of his army from 
Eichmond to confront Sherman. Jefferson Davis in a 
public speech proclaimed that Sherman's army was now 
about to be destroyed. Many believed it, North and 
South. 

Note 3, p. 34. The " Foragers" were a great band of 
mounted men, one-twentieth of the army, whose duty 
it was to scour the enemy's country and bring captured 
corn, meat, cattle, horses, etc., etc., into the camp. 
They pressed the planters' negroes, carriages, mules, 
cattle, and wagons into use, loading them all down with 
supplies. It was no unusual sight to see fine carriages 
laden with sweet-potatoes, and the forager driver rigged 
out in the cylinder hat and swallow-tail coat of some 
fleeing planter. 

They were a brave and unique body of soldiers. They 
often served in the place of cavalry, and guarded the 
flanks of the army. They were terribly feared by the 
enemy and were often mistreated when captured. At 
one point on the march, eighteen of them were shot 
after surrendering, and their bodies were piled up at the 
roadside, labelled, " Death to Foragers." General Sher- 
man ordered Kilpatrick to shoot eighteen prisoners in 
retaliation for this murder. 

See Sherman's " Memoir." 

Note 4, p. 38. There were twenty-five miles of wagon 
trains with the army. These, with the artillery, usually 
occupied the roads ; the troops marched at each side, or 
through the fields. 



NOTES. 147 

Note 5, p. 42. When Sherman was about ready to 
start seawards from Altanta, Hood, commanding the 
rebel army at his front, passed around his right flank 
and started on a grand raid to the North. He met his 
Waterloo at the hands of Thomas in Nashville. His 
army was destroyed. Sherman had followed him a 
hundred miles, but suddenly turned about and started 
for the ocean. It was in this raid of Hood's that several 
thousand of his army attacked the little post at Alla- 
toona. Sherman sent his famous message to " Hold on " 
from the heights of the Kenesaw Mountain, over the 
heads of the rebel army. Corse did hold on till almost 
all his men had been killed or wounded and the foe was 
in retreat. 

Note 6, p. 62. The most striking feature of the whole 
march was the tens of thousands of poor slaves deserting 
the plantations and striking for liberty. Their songs of 
joy, their pathetic behavior, made a lasting impression 
on every beholder. Here was a whole race of human 
beings suddenly let out of bondage. Not since the return 
of the Children of Israel had the world seen such a sight. 
It was a milestone in the history of all time. 

Note 7, p. 70. For an account of this awful incident 
see the ' ' History of the March to the Sea," by Major 
General J. D. Cox, p. 38 (Scribner's Sons). He tells how 
the bridge was ordered destroyed by a certain corps 
commander, and how like a stampeded drove of cattle 
the poor slaves rushed into the river and were drowned. 

Note 8, p. 74. Incidents like this occurred near At- 
lanta, and more than once. In fact, nearly the whole of 
Sherman's army promptly re-enlisted on the field. 

Note 9, p. 99. This scene took place as described. Its 
heroes suffered horrible fates. Some were stripped and 
whipped nearly to death. All were chained for months 



148 NOTES. 

in filthy dungeons, and numbers were put to death on 
the scaffold. All, except one, now lie buried together in 
the National Cemetery at Chattanooga. The Fuller re- 
ferred to in the poem was the engineer of the stolen 
engine. One member, at least, of the Andrews party 
escaped and, later, joined Sherman's army on the march 
to the sea, and, as related in stanza 106, is supposed to 
tell the tale of the wonderful raid. 

The writer, after his own capture, met one of the 
Andrews men in a Southern prison, with a cannon-ball 
chained to his leg. 

The Andrews raid was pronounced by Southerners the 
"most daring deed of any war." " Had it succeeded," 
said the Southern press, "Beauregard's army would 
have been lost." 

Note 10. p. 107. This incident was witnessed by General 
Howard. The boy, in his zeal to do his duty and carry 
his flag to the very top, thought nothing of his wound 
except as it stopped him short of the mountain crest 
they were charging. It may be mentioned that all in- 
cidents narrated in the story are absolute facts gathered 
from participants in the march. 

Note 11, p. 112. The town of Louisville, in the route 
of the march, was completely burned up while the troops 
were in it, on November 28, 1864. Its citizens had been 
burning bridges, and the soldiers retaliated, but not by 
order. 

Note 12, p. 121. There were few real battles on the 
march, but constant skirmishing and attempts at sur- 
prise. The first battle was fought at Duncan's farm, 
near Macon ; the second was Kilpatrick's brave cavalry 
fight at Briar Creek, by Waynesborough ; the third was 
in the approaches to Savannah, where the road beds had 
been filled with torpedoes ; and the last fight was the 
storming of Fort McAllister by the sea. 



NOTES, 149 

Note 13, p. 131. The fort thus stormed by Hazen's 
men was McAllister. It was strongly built and had 
abatis, ditch, and palisades. The storming took just 
fifteen minutes. It was sad to see one hundred and 
twenty-four brave men slain who had made the great 
march, and who, now in sight of the sea, almost heard 
the plaudits of the North. The dead of both armies lay 
there in the moonlight till morning. Sherman himself 
entered the fort late in the evening, and says in his 
" Memoirs " : "Inside the fort lay the dead as they had 
fallen, and they could hardly be distinguished from their 
living comrades sleeping soundly side by side in the pale 
moonlight." 

These were the last who died on the March to the Sea. 

Note 14, p. 135. This song was sung by thousands of 
Sherman's soldiers after the completion of the march, 
and it had the honor of giving its name to the campaign 
it celebrates. Its author, the present writer, had been 
one of Sherman's army, and was captured at the battle 
of Chattanooga. While a prisoner in the South he 
escaped from the Macon stockade, disguised himself in 
a Confederate uniform, went to the Southern army, and 
witnessed some of the fierce fighting about Atlanta, re- 
ferred to in the poem. He was discovered and sent back 
to prison at Columbia, S. C, where he wrote the song. 
He soon escaped again, rejoined Sherman's army, and 
for a time served on General Sherman's staff. At Cape 
Fear river he was sent North with dispatches to Grant 
and President Lincoln, bringing the first news the North 
had of Sherman's successes in the Carolinas. The author 
reproduces this song of his here because it has an inter- 
est as being one of the songs of Sherman's soldiers, and 
one familiar to the country in general in the years fol- 
lowing the war. 



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Hamlin 
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A powerfully 
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COLUMBUS THE DISCOVERER. A Drama. 

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THE AZTECS. 



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